Sawdust and Gunpowder
by FWandFS
Summary: Abby and Gibbs draw closer and the lines begin to blur, moment by moment, day by day, crisis by crisis.  Some of those moments follow:
1. My time of night

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Gunpowder and Sawdust** – Abby and Gibbs draw closer and the lines begin to blur, moment by moment, day by day, crisis by crisis. Some of those moments follow:

Rating – T at this time, may change in later chapters.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): First Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

Chapter One-

**My time of night**

Gibbs awoke with a start as the doors of Autopsy hissed shut. The lights were dim and he was alone. Ducky must have just left.

He rose and swung his legs over the edge of the stainless steel autopsy table as his back and neck protested. He might well be able to fall asleep anywhere, as he had learned in the Marines, but his body forgave him slowly on arising. He picked up the yellow sticky note Ducky had left on the table by his head and squinted in the dim light.

Huh…Ducky earned his right to that M.D. The note was virtually illegible. 'Rabbit weighs ton', 'Rabid wars stun,'…no...'Report is done.' That made more sense. He crossed the room and flipped on all the lights, then picked up the file next to Ducky's computer. He scanned it holding it at arm's length. Never had the damn glasses when he needed them – they must be upstairs on his desk.

Got the gist – though. Two needle marks in the petty officer's neck. Nothing else remarkable – the rest would depend on toxicology. He tapped the file against his hand thoughtfully. Knowing Abby, she hadn't left. His mouth quirked up in a faint smile as he headed down to the lab.

The building was quietly deserted as he made his way down the hall. The others he had all let go for the night – there wasn't anything more they could do until they had more information. They'd all function better with at least a few scant hours sleep. Not Abby, though. She never seemed to leave her post when an investigation was open.

Sure enough, he found her sleeping at her desk, her head lying on her folded arms as images rapidly shuttled across the computer screen above her. She must be exhausted, he thought, since she didn't sense his arrival. He shook her cup of Caf-Pow gently and let the rattle of the ice cubes alert her to his presence.

Abby yawned and her green cat's eyes gazed at him sleepily. "Hey, Gibbs," she rasped in a morning voice. She stretched and flexed her fingers. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Early. Or late, depending on your point of view. Don't ask."

"Ah, your time of night," she retorted.

"My time of night?" Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

She chuckled. "You have potential, Gibbs. A creature of the night in the making."

He lifted an eyebrow at her and ignored the jibe. He leaned over her shoulder to look at her computer screen even though what was there never made much sense to him, until Abby clarified it.

"There's nothing there yet, I keep telling you – you can't rush science." She gently chided.

He stood straight again and winced, rolling his shoulder.

"You slept in autopsy again, didn't you?" She accused.

He gave her a sardonic look. "Yeah, all the master suites at the Ritz here were taken."

Abby scooted back in her rolling chair and stood, before taking him by the shoulders and pushing him in a no-nonsense manner into the chair.

"Those tables are meant for _dead people_, Gibbs. I mean, not all dead people have to be uncomfortable…my coffin is well padded for a good night's sleep now and in the afterlife, but seriously, those are just like large metal cafeteria trays." Her hands worked purposefully against the knots in his shoulders. "No support, no satin covered padding….even the floor down here with Bert as a pillow would be more comfortable….Ooh, you are all knots."

Rather than his routine protests, Gibbs let his head fall forward with an exhalation that split the difference between a groan and a sigh. It felt too good to stop – and in the quiet of the night the rules and boundaries that he would set in the workplace felt a little more flexible. Aah…right there. Her fingers were firm and ministering, confident in their ability to read the map of pain across drawn muscle and tension.

Abby leant over him as she put her weight into her palm and rotated it against the knot above his shoulder blade. Quietly, she marveled that he was letting her touch him this way. Even if he had given her shoulder rubs and massaged away her charley horses, kissed her brow and held her when she cried; he had never accepted more than hugs from her in return. He was self-reliant to the point of aloofness. His skin was so warm under the cotton. She felt daring as she let her hand slide up the back of his neck to the bare skin above his shirt collar, rubbing small circles on either side of his vertebrae. Her fingers sank into the finely cropped silver hair as she slowly massaged the base of his scalp. She thought she heard a quiet moan and she bit her lip in suspense. How long would he let her touch him like this?

He couldn't let her continue, he knew better. The quiet of the lab and the darkness outside had lulled him into relaxing his boundaries. But this was dangerous territory. Abby and he had a special trust, one he couldn't afford to jeopardize. Oh, but her hands felt so good on his bare neck. He felt an involuntary shiver, too good. He forced himself to wrap her wrist in his hand to stop her. "Thanks." His voice cracked. He placed a gentle kiss in the palm of her hand, caught her green eyes with his own and his heart stuttered. He wasn't sure what he read there, but it sure wasn't how a woman looked at a father figure.

Abby felt the kiss on her palm all the way to her core and the moment was more intimate than many she had had in the bedroom. His eyes had an undefinable intensity she had never seen before and her breath became shallow.

_Beep-_the insistent sound from her computer interrupted them, as both turned their gaze to the screen with dissonant feelings of both annoyance and relief. Seamlessly, they switched places as he leaned over her, gripping the back of her chair with his right and leaning his left palm on her desk. Her fingers began to fly across the keyboard.

"Um….so…yeah…definitely something hinky going on there." Abby nattered, dragging her thoughts back to her work. She could feel the warmth of Gibbs breath on the back of her neck and shivered. 'Focus Abby, focus,' she thought willfully.

Was it his imagination or was her voice breathy? He bit into his cheek and focused on the momentary pain to distract him. Anything, not to notice her hand lightly tremble on the computer mouse. "Hinky, Abbs? I can't arrest anyone on 'hinky'."

A small smile stole across her face. For a non-scientist he was sure hung up on technical terms. "OK – we got sodium thiopental and a benzodiazepine. Not nice, Gibbs, Not nice at all." She looked back over her shoulder at him.

He lifted an eyebrow at her and waited. He knew translation would be forthcoming if he could be patient.

"Yeah, well you'd know sodium thiopental as sodium pentothal – you know, truth serum. They must have given him that first and then followed up with a chaser of Rohypnol. Rohypnol causes amnesia – a date rape drug." She began speeding up her delivery as her thoughts came flying fast upon one another. "Z-drugs are being used a lot more for date rapes now 'cause they're so much easier to get by prescription. Not as powerful, but easy to get. But a benzodiazepine like flunitrazepam- that means they're traditionalists, Gibbs – and they got access – major access. But that wouldn't have killed him, something else did."

"Bottom line – we still don't know how he died, but truth serum and amnesia?" Gibbs summed up.

She nodded once. "And they're pros. They've done this before," She cautioned.

"But what are they after?" he murmured drumming his fingers on her desk. "Thanks, Abbs." He pressed a kiss against her temple and then stood.

"For finding the drugs?" she scoffed looking up at him. All in a day's work, she thought – no challenge there.

"Yeah, well for that too," he quipped with a brief broad smile before departing.

Her face lit up as she spun in her chair and watched him leave with his customary ground-breaking stride. Gibb's smiles were like all valuables – precious for their rarity. She gave a quick sigh before turning back to her keyboard. She had so much to mull over, but it would have to wait. Right now, there was work to do.

TBC


	2. Court Suits

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Gunpowder and Sawdust** – Abby and Gibbs draw closer and the lines begin to blur, moment by moment, day by day, crisis by crisis. Some of those moments follow:

Rating – T at this time, may change in later chapters.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): First Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

Chapter 2

**Court Suits**

Abby's heels clicked unsteadily on the marble floors of the courthouse. Dust motes swirled in the afternoon light from the windows high overhead. Echoes of whispered conversations and the low rumble of chilly, too civil confrontations washed down the hallway. She turned the brass handle for the ladies' lounge wearily. Testifying was exhausting-TGIF.

She approached the long counters of sinks and gripped the edge as she peered into the mirror. Ugh. She looked like she was ready for a high school debate team in an outfit that the Easter Bunny had vomited. Abby whipped off the glasses and unbuttoned the tiny pearl buttons at the neck of her white blouse. Her mouth made a moue in disgust at the lavender suit and matching bag. Women wore these itchy contraptions by choice? It flabbergasted her. Thank God she was done for the day.

"Well, Hello Abby." A voice greeted her from the lounge entrance.

Her day just went from bad to worse. She closed her eyes briefly in reflexive dread on hearing the low-pitched greeting from M. Allison Hart.

"Actually, it's Dr. Scuitto now," Abby bit back with a tight smile that didn't come close to meeting her eyes as she addressed her self-appointed nemesis in the mirror. "How are you Ms. Hart?" It stung having to see her, of all people, when she felt so far out of her element. Abby rubbed the pale pink lipstick off roughly with a tissue before digging in her bag to find a signature crimson tube instead.

Allison appeared casually confident, as usual, her dark hair arcing in a perfect swing with her walk as she, too, approached the mirrors for a make-up check. "I didn't know you were testifying today."

"What a shame," Abby struggled to match her cool indifferent tone. "We must be on very different cases, this time."

Allison laughed wryly. "Actually, Dr. Scuitto. I would rather not go up against you in court again." She tilted her head to look in Abby's direction. "But I think you know that."

Abby sighed, readjusting the uncomfortable skirt. "It's just Abby, really…I don't actually like being called Dr. Scuitto any more than wearing this god awful suit."

"How did your case go?" Allison inquired. "You seem upset."

"Oh – the case went fine. I mean we did our job – the evidence is all there and tied up neat with a bow. What you lawyer types do with it, though, God only knows how it will turn out." Abby shrugged. "I just hate having to wear a monkey suit just so people will listen to me."

Allison looked amused rather than offended. "Ah, I see Jethro's opinions have filtered down through the ranks…So, how is he?"

Abby turned jerkily toward her in response. She had thought they were an item, or at least in regular communication. "Gibbs?...Yeah, well, he's Gibbs….you know."

Allison shook her head ruefully. "Yes, I know." She shut the clasp on her patent leather bag, readjusted her heels and turned to go.

"How do you do it?" Abby asked her reflection in the mirror.

"Do what?" Allison looked sincerely confused.

"Wear a monkey suit like you don't hate it every day…act like being a professional is all you want to do…How can you stand being so perfect?" Abby's inherent inability to edit her thoughts plunged her into a conversation she wasn't sure she even wanted.

Allison approached the banquette of mirrors again and rested her hip against the line of sinks, facing Abby. "Dutch Courage," she responded succinctly.

"What?" It was Abby's turn to be confused.

"Before facing a duel, when a man wasn't prepared, he drank cognac. It didn't make him more competent, it only made him think he was. They called it Dutch Courage." She sighed. "I learned to put on an attitude with the suit every day, Dr. Scuitto, because I don't have your knowledge base or your skills. I don't trust my competence as much as you do, so I have to act like I do and then no one will doubt me."

Abby was stunned by her honesty. "Wow. Well you sure had me fooled." Abby turned decisively to her. "And Allison, my name is Abby." She stuck out her hand in order to make a fresh start.

The two women's green eyes met in grudging respect and Allison shook it. Somehow they knew a corner had been turned.

Allison nodded at Abby's reflection. "The power suits don't have to feel that awful, Abby. Sometimes, you need to find a compromise, that's all. Something that suits your sense of aesthetic but doesn't offend anyone else's."

Abby tilted her head looking at her own reflection, trying to imagine what Allison could see that she didn't.

"And Abby….no offense, but lavender is _not_ your color."

** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS **

Abby sailed into the office whistling, wearing her customary black miniskirt, skull t-shirt and kickass boots, carrying her garment bag with the offending suit over her shoulder.

"How was court?" Gibbs asked without looking up from the report he was reading.

"Illuminating." Abby replied with a sunny tone. "And I saw your Ms. Hart there."

"Not my Ms. Hart, Abbs." He replied calmly still without looking up.

"Yes, I know." Abby had a smile in her voice as she responded, before spinning towards the exit to her lab.

"Illuminating, Abbs?" Now he was looking at her, one eyebrow lifted.

She only smiled in response, twirling around before catching a passing Ziva by the arm.

"You are _never_ going to believe this…" Abby said in a low voice, pulling Ziva with her down the hall.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and followed their progress down the hall intently from his desk. Brusquely announcing he was going for coffee to McGee and DiNozzo, he headed out to the elevator, studiously ignoring the murmured gossip between the two other agents.

** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS **

"I cannot tell you, Tony. I am sworn to secrecy." The secretive smile on Ziva's face accompanied by her pronounced studiousness as she gazed down at the computer printout gave away her enjoyment of Tony's predicament. He simply hated not being in the know.

"So, McGeek," Tony twirled his chair to face his other cubicle-mate. "Just what were the whispered mysterious weekend plans of our Mistress of the Dark, anyway?" Tony flicked a spitball at McGee who refused to acknowledge it as it struck his temple.

"Don't know," Tim said in a bored voice. "Not my business. Not yours either, Tony." He continued to check his email. Even if he knew, he'd never give Tony the satisfaction, especially not at Abby's expense.

"Everything is my business, McSquint." Tony rejoined, flicking another spitball. This one earned him a glare. He regularly convinced himself that prying into the personal lives of his colleagues kept his investigative skills finely honed. They would have begged to differ.

"Not mine, DiNozzo." Gibbs startled him, as he sailed around the corner. Tony visibly winced at being caught unaware once again by his superior. He glared at Ziva for not warning him, but her smirk only widened.

Gibbs tossed a short stack of manila file folders on his desk, before taking a quick sip of coffee. "Ducky gotten back to us on Petty Officer Davis' cause of death, yet?" He asked the group.

They all demurred and he sighed. "DiNozzo, call Local LEO's and follow up on any recent Rohypnol cases. McGee and Ziver, interview the family again. We missed something."

"Boss!" Tony called out as Gibbs headed to the elevator.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs turned to face him.

"What are you going to do?"

Gibbs gave him a long, silent speaking look.

Tony broke eye contact and shook his head. "Never mind," he said, picking up the telephone to follow up on his assigned calls.

Gibbs nodded once sharply, before sipping his ever-present coffee and heading to the elevators.

After the doors closed and he was safely out of earshot, Tim chimed in. "He's going to Autopsy, Tony. We didn't tell him the COD."

"And then to the Lab," Ziva finished. "He'll want to know what Tony was talking about."

Tony snorted, "He didn't hear me, anyway."

Ziva's laugh rang out like a bell. "Gibbs? He hears everything, Tony. Everything!" She slung her bag to her shoulder before looking to see if McGee was ready to accompany her.

Tony scowled at their retreating forms. He hated being the last to know.

** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS **

Gibbs hated being the last to know. Something had happened last Friday with Abby and he was very much out of the loop. He continued to scowl as he entered Autopsy and saw Ducky had an unknown visitor - a long tall woman with a French twist, in a black pantsuit. Ducky was fascinated with his visitor. There would be no quick answers today.

He sipped his coffee and then felt it slide down the wrong pipe as Ducky's visitor turned around. He coughed repeatedly and his eyes watered.

"Abby!" he double-checked in confusion.

She tilted her head and smiled. "Yes, Gibbs?"

At his silent stare, she looked down. "Oh, the court suit…They warned me I might have to ready to give more testimony on Monday and to be prepared."

Gibbs wasn't prepared. This wasn't his Abby, unsure and wringing her hands looking like she had been dressing up in her mom's closet. The black jacket flared in quiet tribute to Victorian lines, her jet dark blouse had a high Battenburg lace collar that covered her spiderweb, and the pants rippled and flowed when she walked towards him gracefully. She stood on heels, but not pumps and not stilettos. They looked expensive and faintly quirky at the same time. He smiled when she walked toward him, twirling around playfully. His eyes caught the jeweled clips that held up her French twist. They were crystal studded skulls, only a ½ inch wide. His mouth pulled into a one-sided smile. This was his Abby, after all.

Abby misjudged her twirl and ended up bumping right into Gibbs. His one free arm wrapped around her waist to steady her and she spread her hands against his chest to keep from falling. His breath caught as he realized their faces were scant inches apart.

He dropped his arm from around her waist as if she were a hot coal, before stepping back. Abby blinked in awkward surprise and then muttered about needing to be in her lab before rushing out. Gibbs stared after her departing form in shocked surprise.

Ducky sniffed. "Really, Jethro. I hope you won't take it amiss if I remind you that you could have said something complimentary about her appearance. She did look remarkable and she was so happy…" his voice trailed off when he caught Gibbs frozen expression.

"COD, Ducky?" Gibbs gave no quarter.

Ducky grimaced at Gibb's pig-headedness. "His cause of death was so subtle, I am ashamed to say I didn't see it the first time- A broken hyoid bone, a small and discreet break. He was strangled by an expert, Jethro. No bruising, no marks. Only the hyoid left to tell the tale. I'm afraid you're not dealing with an amateur." Ducky completed his monologue while preparing to sterilize his instruments.

"Anything else, Ducky?" Gibbs asked, more conversationally.

"Sadly, no, my good friend. However, I did send Mr. Palmer with the remainder of his belongings to Abigail. The ball is in her court, I believe." Ducky looked up at the senior agent. "And Jethro, this time when you see her….Do try to be a gentleman." His voice was laced with light reprimand.

Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment before heading out the door.

** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS ** NCISNCISNCIS **

"Hi Gibbs," Without even turning, Abby called out virtually before he crossed the threshold. She was leaning toward her computer screen, her brow furrowed in concentration. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise that she had recognized him without any visual or audio cue. He had taken the stairs and not the elevator. If she was feeling this perceptive, he would have to be on his toes around her today.

"Abby, I should have said something before, you loo.."

She interrupted him with rapid fire speech. "I know what you're down here for, Gibbs. And I don't have much, yet. There are some fibers unaccounted for on his clothing. There may be a watermark on this paper, but it's been so crumpled I'm having trouble seeing it…"

"Abbs," he tried interrupting her, standing behind her left shoulder.

"It looks expensive, though, like maybe 'Crane' or something they sell at Papyrus.."

"Abbs," he tried again more firmly.

"Why would a Petty Officer be carrying around high falutin' stuff like this, though, I'm not sure if…" she continued without pausing.

"Abbs!" Gibbs pulled on her left elbow until she was facing him. "Look, whatever there is to find, I know you'll find it, OK?" He looked at her intently and saw that despite her professional mask, her mouth and eyes looked vulnerable.

She nodded and then made as if to turn back to the screen, but was forestalled when he gripped her shoulders lightly.

"What's with the suit, Abbs?" he asked quietly.

Her mouth tightened and she tilted her chin. "You don't like it?"

"I like it fine, Abby. But I liked your other outfits, too. Why the sudden change?" His eyes were penetrative, but patient.

Abby gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Maybe it's time I grew up and started acting my age. Allison and I went shopping this weekend, she took me to some boutiques in Alexandria that wouldn't make me a Talbot clone warrior…and.."

"Allison? Allison Hart?" he asked in stunned disbelief. "You hate the woman."

Abby sniffed. "Hated. I'm allowed to change my mind. Besides, haven't you always told me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer?" She looked him square in the eye. "Did you know she and I are the exact same age? Exact same – same birthday and everything."

He shook his head silently. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the picture of Abby and Allison shopping together.

"So…I have to wear monkey suits every time I testify, I figured that I might as well try and look good in them. And if I act my age, then maybe everyone around here will remember I'm thirtysomething and not seventeen." There was an unexplained truculent look in her eye.

"You look wonderful, Abby. But you always do. You don't have to change for anyone," he reassured her quietly. "And you have nothing to hide," he brushed his fingers along the path of where her spiderweb would be, had it been visible under the lace. His thumb traced against her jawline in a silent statement of signed possessiveness 'My Girl'.

She was rendered speechless at his tenderness as he pulled her close enough to brush a kiss against her temple. "Don't change, Abby. Don't ever change."

Her eyes watered against her volition and shone up with luminous emotion as she looked into his eyes. This time, she was the first to break away and look back to her monitors. He stood stock still gazing at her for a few more moments silently before quietly making his way to the door.

He turned back after crossing the threshold and leaned into the lab. "And Abby…" he called out.

She turned inquiringly and faced him.

"I know exactly how old you are." He gave her a sideways smile and a quick wink before leaving the room.

Abby leaned against her counter and bit her lip. When would she ever start to figure out Leroy Jethro Gibbs?

TBC


	3. White Knight

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree

**Sawdust and Gunpowder** – Abby and Gibbs draw closer and the lines begin to blur, moment by moment, day by day, crisis by crisis. Some of those moments follow:

Rating – T at this time, may change in later chapters.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): First Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

Chapter 3 –

**White Knight**

Ziva tilted her head quizzically, gazing through the sliding glass door of Abby's inner sanctum in the lab. It was most unexpected, seeing Abby in a formal gown. While elegant, it was not her usual style. Abby seemed unaware of her friend's presence as she swished the long skirts around her and straightened the bodice. The high mandarin collar hid her tattoo, as did the cap sleeves that covered her shoulders. Her hair was smoothed into a neat chignon at the base of her neck. Her sole concession to her own nonconformity was its color – a deep, rich crimson.

Abby turned and Ziva felt a wave of sympathy. The young scientist had never looked more conventionally lovely, or more miserable. Abby responded to seeing her friend by releasing the automatic door lock and letting Ziva into her office. "Hi, Ziva." She sounded positively mournful.

One thing Ziva appreciated about Abby was that you always knew where you stood with her. She had no artifice. In reality, Ziva did not either. However, she could not wear her heart on the arm of her coat the way Abby did.

"Hello, Abby." Ziva's response was measured, stating the obvious. "You have plans for this evening, I see."

"More like they have plans for me." Abby let loose with a frustrated growl, pointing at the ivory stock invitation with engraved print on her desk.

Never one to ask permission, Ziva picked it up and scanned it. "The Louisiana Ladies Guild for our National Defense?" She asked in a puzzled voice. "I have not heard of a cotillion, it is like your 'prom'?"

Abby pulled on one elbow length ivory gloves with a vicious tug. "No. It is room of a hundred vipers pretending to be Emily Post, waiting to stab you with a verbal switchblade." She turned unhappily to Ziva. "But I have to go. It's my godmother's daughter's debutante ball."

"Ah, her coming out of the closet party, no?" Ziva evinced pride that she got the reference.

A smile flitted across Abby's face briefly. "Her _'coming out'_ party, Ziva. She gets to be presented to 'polite society." Her voice dripped frustrated scorn.

Ziva gazed penetratingly at Abby. "You had one of these – these cotillions?"

Abby checked her makeup in a compact mirror before pulling on the other glove and buttoning the wrist. "Oh yeah, my own and a thousand others. The joys of growing up a southern belle."

Ziva had never seen Abby this restless or anxious about her appearance. "What is so awful about this event? Surely, you do not wish to spend yet another Saturday night here in the lab!"

Abby whipped her head to snap back at Ziva, "I would _love_ to spend my night working in the lab. I _belong_ in the lab. At least people want me here. They don't treat me like a freak show or dress me up like a doll. I _matter here." _Her voice shook, and then she paused and drew in a shaky breath. "It doesn't matter, it's just one evening," she said with forced calm.

"What will make it so difficult, Abby?" Ziva stood too close to be ignored, pressing her point.

Abby sighed. "They will just take every chance to remind me that I don't belong. I don't own my own home with 'just a perfectly wonderful cleaning service'. I never donated a recipe to the Junior League cookbook. I didn't help fund-raise for the new Montessori preschool in town." Her voice rose in stridency. "And I don't have a 'normal' job, or kids, or a husband." She ended with the trifecta of social success.

"Does their opinion matter, these women?" Ziva asked pointedly.

"Not until I'm with them and all those southern drawls bring me back to being seventeen years old." Abby's shoulders drooped.

"Who is accompanying you?" Ziva asked, ever the pragmatist.

Abby just shook her head silently.

"Abby…," she chided. "Why did you not ask Tony or Timothy? They would be proud to go with you."

Abby's voice was scratchy. "This is part of my old life, Ziva. I don't want to drag them into it. I wouldn't want to use someone just to pretend I'm a success."

Ziva snorted. "Donating recipes makes you a success?"

"No. Having a good man does." Abby shook her head and picked up her evening bag and the invitation. "Just because I don't buy into that tradition, doesn't mean I don't know what it means." She pulled her shoulders back and took a deep breath. "Wish me luck, Ziva."

"Be'hatzlacha," Ziva replied automatically, acknowledging Abby's courage in walking into her own personal lion's den.

*** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS ** NCIS **

Abby sat in uncomfortable silence at the circular table that skirted the edge of the ballroom floor. A stiff smile graced her face as she watched the New Orleans debutantes of twenty years ago topping each other's riotous stories cruise ship misadventures. Ugh. She had only been there thirty minutes, but it felt like hours. Their laughter tinkled across the tables as the chandeliers caught the sparkle of their diamonds and the brassy highlights of their universally blonde hair. Each was seated next to their requisite Cotillion Ken doll that looked a little worse for wear. The years hadn't been quite as kind to them as their well-preserved wives. They spoke to one another over their wives heads about market share, NASCAR and the relative values of a Lexus vs. a BMW. Lord, was she bored.

She scanned the ballroom. Nope. Not a single person she wanted to talk to or see again. Not even, God forbid her godmother. Phyllis Lafayette had been a distant friend of the family, and in a moment of weakness her mother had asked her to be Abby's godmother. Abby could not recall a single time Phyllis had not found her wanting, including tonight. She had run a critical eye over Abby on her arrival. "Red, Abby, must you? Well, sit towards the back and try to be inconspicuous, dear. We have appearances to maintain." She had parted with a false smile to gush over the congressman's arrival. And despite Abby's clear response that she would be arriving without an escort, her godmother had put "Abigail Scuito and guest" on the placecards at the table, accentuating her single state.

"You're a hard woman to track down." A husky voice drawled behind her.

"Gi…", a finger was laid on her lips to silence her, as Gibbs leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Jethro, Abbs," he whispered lightly, drawing his lips over the rim of her ear.

Her eyes widened, taking in Gibbs in full evening dress uniform. The crisp and beribboned dress blue cropped jacket, the starched white collar, down to the red cummerbund and blue trousers. In her ten years at NCIS, she had never seen him in his dress blues, not even at a funeral.

"Jethro," she breathed finding it awkward to call him anything but Gibbs.

His face lit in bright quick smile, before bringing her fingertips to his lips. "You look surprised to see me."

"I am! How did you find me?"

He lifted his eyebrow. "Would you believe me if I said I used my charm and influence on Special Agent David?"

"No." Abby laughed.

"Would you believe I threatened her within an inch of her life if she didn't tell me where you were?" he countered.

"Maybe." Abby's face lit with the first full smile since her arrival. She realized that silence had fallen over the table as they watched the new arrival.

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Abby?" asked Penelope Harcourt coyly, one of Abby's schoolmates and fellow former debutante. Her tone was honeyed, but barbed with trenchant curiosity.

"Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs, U.S. Marine Corps, ma'am," His bow was a shade too sketchy to be truly respectful. He nodded at each of the others at the table on introduction before taking his seat next to Abby, pulling his chair into close contact with hers. He gently took her left hand in his right, rubbing his thumb in the palm of her gloved hand reassuringly.

"I'm sure Abby has told you all about me and our deb days, but we haven't heard about you, Sergeant Gibbs." Penelope pressed on with curiosity. She never would have figured Abby to bring anyone but a chemist with a pocket protector, at best. True, he wasn't young even if he was handsome, but his air of command and knowing eyes made a woman wonder about a lot of things.

Gibbs seemed amused at the woman's self-absorption, cocked his head and replied, "Can't say that she has, ma'am." His voice lowered into a more intimate tone, looking at Abby. "I guess we've had other things to talk about."

Penelope's lips pursed. His constant address of calling her ma'am had a way of making her feel like an unwanted granny. No man his age should be looking at Abby like a predator with willing prey while seated at a formal dinner. It wasn't seemly. Trust Abby not to know how to behave. Penelope ignored her own hypocrisy as she flirted with Anne Boncoeur's husband who was seated next to her. Despite her nonchalant appearance, she stole frequent glances at the striking couple with their heads tilted toward each other, seemingly in their own world with smiles and whispered words. Why was Abby blushing, anyway?

Abby marveled at Gibbs' appearance. He never went to formal functions unless under direct orders, and sometimes not even then. She recalled his tossing the last invitation into the blue recycling bin. When she asked what it was for, he had responded, "Chicken dinner. They're always chicken dinners, Abbs. 'cause everyone expects it and chicken doesn't offend anyone even if it's not interesting." She worked out later that he had been speaking symbolically, rather than on the meal. But he had come this evening, just for her.

She still felt tense, waiting for the cats at the table to pounce. Gibbs had surreptitiously unsnapped the glove buttons on her wrist and rubbed his thumb up and down the few inches of bare skin just above her pulse point. While the gesture might have been intended to calm, it served the opposite effect. She struggled to focus on what he was saying and not on the effect of his warm breath as he whispered in her ear. Nope, the cause was lost. It was difficult enough to ignore her attraction to Gibbs when he wasn't trying. When he was playing the attentive lover, she felt virtually swamped by it.

The men at the table had wrested the conversation from the women, focusing on cars once again. Forrest Harcourt and Charlie Boncoeur debated the relative performance and smooth ride of the BMW and Lexus oblivious to the boredom of the table.

"What do you drive, Sergeant Gibbs?" Forrest Harcourt pompously inquired, expecting little.

"'71 Dodge Challenger - Road/Track suspension with a 426 HEMI engine." He shrugged at their surprise. "I guess I always liked the power, and I'm not bothered by a rough ride." Gibbs countered. None of the women at the table missed the double entendre.

Penelope had a few glasses of Chablis under her belt and her thin veneer of civility had been stripped. "And you, Abby? Do you like older models, too?" She snidely remarked, staring at Gibb's silver hair.

Abby's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her protective instincts stirred. "I drive a 1932 Ford Deuce Coupe, Penny. It's a _classic_. You know those newer models are all so fussy and they break down so often and disappoint you." In turn, she stared at Forrest's ample gut.

Gibbs coughed and looked away with a smile he couldn't suppress. "Dance with me, Abby – before you volunteer to show them what's under the hood," he said with amusement. He stood and held out his hand for her before pulling her in to hold her closely on the dance floor.

As he twirled her about, Abby looked over his shoulder and saw the slack-jawed faces of the former debs and their husbands at their table. Her body was rigid with suppressed fury.

"Easy tiger," he whispered in her ear.

"You didn't deserve that." She whispered back fiercely. "They're just jealous, spiteful cats and I would rather be with you than any of those…"

"Shh. Let it go, Abbs." He interrupted firmly. "Not worth your time or the energy." He swept her across the floor, away from their eyes. He only acknowledged the other soldiers in attendance with brief nods. This debutante cotillion was a fundraiser in support of military families, after all.

Abby had benefitted from debutante training if only by learning to dance gracefully as if her body had been meant to follow his. She let the music and the strong feel of his arms around her distract her from her rage. Abby sighed; actually this was a lovely way to spend an evening.

The music cocooned them from the senseless drivel that constituted most of the conversations around them, allowing them to slip into a private world where only they two resided. So they danced, unaware of the glances that followed them around the floor. The women couldn't fail to notice him, striking with his air of confidence and devotion, cutting a fine figure in dress uniform. The men, by contrast, couldn't help but envy him for finding the tiger lily in the room full of daisies. Abby in crimson gave men primal thoughts without any intent.

"So how did you get Ziva to tell you where I was?" Abby asked huskily.

Gibbs' lips tightened in a quick smile. "I told her I had 32 reports that required a quality assurance review and needed to choose between her and DiNozzo to do it."

"Ah, Blackmail. Classic." Abby laughed. "I swore her to secrecy, but you knew her price."

Gibbs hand tightened slightly at her waist. "You'd been upset all day. I saw Ziva come up from the lab and figured she knew why. I _am_ an investigator, Abbs." He reminded her.

"So you came rushing down here, to be my White Knight?" Abby's eyes laughed as they met his.

Gibbs looked uncomfortable. "I know it would have been better if Tony or Tim had…"

"Bite your tongue, Jethro." She scolded. "You'll always be my White Knight." She burrowed her head closer into his neck.

He bit back a smile. He had to admit, he loved the way his name sounded in her throaty voice. And for reasons he didn't care to examine, he loved that she wanted him there instead of the younger agents.

"Abbs?"

She looked up at him with a soft smile, "Yes?"

God, she was lovely in the light of the chandeliers. She looked like sin in that red dress; no matter how modestly it was cut. His voice was husky, "Do you want to stay for the chicken dinner?"

Abby held his gaze and shook her head. "Why would I want that? "cause everyone expects it and chicken doesn't offend anyone even if it's not interesting?" she imitated Gibbs at his gruffest. "You know what, there's nobody I need to impress here – what if we went out for some Chinese?"

He pulled her closer, kissing the corner of her lips. "That's my girl."

They left without making goodbyes, horrifying her godmother with their unseemly eagerness to be together that trumped proper behavior for a young lady of breeding. What on earth would everyone think?

Just a few other couples lost their taste for chicken dinner and forced etiquette and then followed suit. And if they drove by and looked through a restaurant window and saw a raven haired siren using her chopsticks to feed a single bite to a soldier who only had eyes for her, they felt more than a pang of envy. It wasn't every day that a damsel in distress was saved by her White Knight.

TBC

Thank you to Superbeau, Miss Madonna24, bbfan, tanya2byour21, periodically chlorinated, and STLFAN for taking the time to review! Reviews are _always_ treasured!


	4. Fraternization

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Sawdust and Gunpowder** – Abby and Gibbs draw closer and the lines begin to blur, moment by moment, day by day, crisis by crisis. Some of those moments follow:

Rating – T at this time, may change in later chapters.

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): First Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

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><p>Chapter 4 –<p>

**Fraternization**

Gibbs arrived in the lab with a Caf-Pow delivery, hoping against hope that Abby would have something new for them. They were spinning their wheels upstairs and it was driving him around the bend. To his surprise, the lab was empty though he knew Abby wasn't entirely Abbsent as he heard the driving beat of 'Android Lust' in the background.

The monitors were blank, so he headed into her office to see if she was working on anything at all that could lead them in a new direction. Inherently nosy, he clicked open her web browser and raised his eyebrows in surprise as he read her screen from the Marine Corps handbook:

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><p><em>The Marine Corps fraternization policy is contained in Marine Corps Manual 1100.4.<em>

_Fraternization is the term used to describe improper personal and business relationships among Marines of different ranks or positions. When contact and relationships exceed these standards and become those of "buddies" or peers, then fraternization exists. Under the Marine Corps policy, commanders are instructed to look at the facts and circumstances of each case:_

_(1) Is there a compromise of the chain of command?_

_(2) Is there an appearance of partiality? (REMEMBER: when dealing with the subject of fraternization, perceptions are as deadly as reality)._

_(3) Is there the potential for good order, discipline, morale, or authority to be undermined?_

_If the commander determines that the answer to any of the above questions is "yes," then he/she may determine that the offense of fraternization occurred._

_The responsibility for maintaining the customary and traditional standards of conduct lies with the senior. The line between acceptable conduct and fraternization will not be crossed unless the senior allows it to happen._

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><p>"Gibbs!" Abby squealed as she whipped into the office to find him seated at her desk. "No ninja moves sneaking into my lab. You scare me when you do that!"<p>

He looked unapologetic as he cocked his head at her and turned the monitor towards her. "Whatcha doin', Abbs?" he asked with restrained impatience.

Abby grabbed the Caf-Pow and took a drawn-out sustaining sip. "Research," she replied laconically.

"The case, Abbs?"

"Nope – already gave you everything I can on what I got from you and Ducky. Went over it with a fine tooth comb. Can't do more forensics 'til you give me something to work with, Gibbs."

Gibbs drummed his fingers briefly on her desk in frustrated acknowledgement of what she said. He tapped the monitor. "Research?"

"Uh-huh. I'm looking for antecedent and precedent for all of 'Gibb's Rules.'" She said with a sunny smile.

"And this would be…,"

"Rule 12, of course!" Abby responded perkily. "I found the Marine Corps are pretty clear about relationships that cross boundaries of rank. Once a Marine, always a Marine – I get that. So, it explains the origins of Rule 12. You can't have a relationship with a subordinate."

Gibbs nodded in reluctant agreement.

"For instance, it would explain that it would be most inappropriate for you to fraternize with Ziva, Timmy or Tony because it could compromise the chain of command or create an appearance of partiality and that could be very destructive when you are out on call." Abby took another sip and rattled on, "In fact, according to the Marine's point of view, there are very few people that you can 'fraternize' with because of your rank which would translate to 'department head' here at NCIS."

Gibbs eyes darkened and his lips tightened, he eased her chair back and rose to standing.

"Of course that explains why you can socialize with Ducky, because as M.E. he is head of his own department and therefore of equal rank." Abby sounded remarkably like a first year law student. "And, as head of the lab, it also explains why I should _not_ fraternize with McGee because he would be a subordinate to me, that makes it downright hinky."

Her voice became husky as she looked up at him. "Do you realize, Gibbs, that virtually the only woman at NCIS you could legitimately have a relationship with would be _me_? I don't report to you, I report directly to Director Vance just like you. And while we work together, I _don't_ technically work _for_ you."

Her office suddenly felt entirely too small and intimate for his comfort. He gripped her shoulders with a warning squeeze. "Abbs, I…" Gibbs gazed down at her pale face dominated by those emerald eyes and his train of thought left the station. They were close enough that he caught the faintly acrid bite of gunpowder perfume. He swallowed reflexively.

Abby's eyes held a teasing glint as she wrapped her ruby lips around the straw and took another pull of Caf-Pow. "I was thinking about Tony and Ziva, of course. Since she is no longer a probationary agent, there is no difference in rank and therefore no conflict – if you adhere to Marine Corps regulations, that is." Her eyes opened wide in playful surprise. "Why Gibbs, did you _think_ I was saying?"

He had the sensation of being a catnip mouse held between the paws of a half-grown kitten. Being toyed with was an unfamiliar sensation. "I think you've been hanging around lawyers too much," he growled before giving her shoulders another warning squeeze and easing his way around her desk. "I'll call you when we have something for you to work on Abbs." He said, signing 'see you later' as he backed out of the lab.

His last sight of Abby was as she cocked her head to the side, hand on her hip, "I'll be waiting." A subtle smile played across her lips, making her look like a sleek black cat with a saucer of cream.

Gibbs waited for the elevator doors to close before striking himself sharply on the back of the head with a resounding headslap that would have left Tony seeing stars. His thoughts had no business going down the road they insisted on traveling. Abby thought he loved her like a daughter, for God's sake. She had been talking about Tony and Ziva, hadn't she? But her eyes seemed to tell a different story. He took a shaky breath and tried to focus his thoughts back on the case. God, he could use a cup of coffee.

Striding back into the bullpen, he was all business.

"McGee! Anything back on Petty Officer Curtis' background check?" Gibbs barked. They were stalled in the investigation and Gibbs was downright edgy since coming up from the lab. The investigation had been going for a week and they had almost nothing to show for it.

"Nothing significant, Boss. He drove back from leave with his family in Providence and was on his way back to base. Nothing crops up in his financials, last credit card charge was at a highway rest stop in Maryland for gas. Last phone call was to home." McGee rattled off the essentials as he stared at his computer screen.

"Tony!" Gibbs voice was no less sharp. "Local LEO's?"

Tony held up his index finger as he finished a phone call. "Got something, Boss." He sprung from his desk chair and approached the wall monitor. "Can't say what the overlap is with Curtis', but there have been four deaths now with blood-work showing Rohypnol and truth serum. Local LEO's didn't see the connection because they've been spread out. Two in New Jersey, one in Delaware, and on in Virginia – all spread out over the last six months."

"Sonofabitch!" Gibbs muttered before grabbing a case file and striding to the staircase.

"McGee…" he started.

"On it Boss!" He was already running the names DiNozzo provided him.

"Ziva, Dinozzo!" But as he started taking the stairs up to Vance's office two at a time, he saw them already on the phone lines. Like a well-oiled machine, they synced their research efficiently. He knew by the time he returned from the director's office they would be ready to roll. Their military-like precision as they functioned as a unit – that made him proud. That was the reason for his rules, just for moments like these. The streamlined chain of command and the ingrained discipline was integral to their success.

Nothing could change that. Failure was not an option. And fraternization – or anything like it - would just weaken the chain. His mind wrestled with his heart and won the battle, at least this time.

TBC

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><p><strong>THANK YOU! <strong>to Superbeau, Miss Madonna24, bbfan, tanya2byour21, mibel, periodically chlorinated, and STLFAN, Ziver69, cheether, CALLEN37, ncislove, punkcatwitissues, timundvin and gosgirl for taking the time to review! Reviews are _always_ treasured!


	5. Explosives: Handle with Care

NCIS and all of its wonderful characters – no they don't belong to me. Sigh, they never will. Some of them do belong to each other, though, don't you agree?

**Sawdust and Gunpowder** – Abby and Gibbs draw closer and the lines begin to blur, moment by moment, day by day, crisis by crisis. Some of those moments follow:

Rating – T (Fair warning the sequel: Wake Up and Smell the Coffee is rated M)

FWandFS (Fair Winds and Following Seas): First Fanfic in this Fandom. Have written others as FeliciaMaplewood for Scarecrow and Mrs. King…Yes, I am dating myself by admitting that.

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><p>Chapter 5 –<p>

**Explosives: Handle With Care**

"Well…why not Abby?" Tony suggested, floating a trial balloon.

"Because she's not an agent, DiNozzo." Gibbs shot back without looking up from the paper he was writing on.

"Well then, boss, I think we're screwed." The very special agent stated matter-of-factly, courting Gibbs' temper.

Gibbs looked up with patent annoyance. There had to be a better solution.

"Much as I hate to agree with Tony on anything," Ziva interjected, "he may have a point." She shrugged. "They've seen me, Tony and McGee. They will sniff a 'cop' on any of our female agents. This mission is not complicated; it should be sliced and dried."

"_Smell_ a cop, Ziva, _cut _and dried. Really, McGee and I should chip in and buy you a book on idioms." Tony threw in.

"You are generosity, itself, Tony." She looked at him coolly, like a queen barely acknowledging a courtier before turning back to Gibbs. "Do not underestimate Abby."

"I'm not underestimating her," Gibbs shot back. "She belongs in the lab." He said with finality, unaware of Abby's arrival from the elevator.

"Of course I belong in lab!" Abby surprised them springing up behind them. "Just give me something to do there. Dog hairs, tire treads, monkey feathers…come on guys, anything!" She pleaded.

"Workin' on it, Abbs." Gibbs replied laconically.

"Cool." Abby gave him a thumbs up. "So then, why should I be out of the lab?" She stood to attention in her own perky manner.

"You shouldn't" Gibbs replied shortly, as Tony simultaneously said "We need you!"

Abby's turned her head from one to the other, following them like a ping pong ball. "Whoa. Teamwork, guys. Gotta play nice in the sandbox." Her jibe would have elicited a smile from Gibbs if Tony hadn't pissed him off so much.

Tony rushed on, heedless of Gibbs' cold stare. "The Boss needs a girlfriend."

"Ah…" Abby blanched, this was not what she expected. Could the team have figured out what she had worked so hard to hide?

"Just for a mission, Abby." Ziva placated her, standing alongside her. She pulled up a new slide on the monitor showing a gated large estate complex. "Finally, we have found ties between the victims. It seems that they have each once resided on this estate. Four of the victims are young women associated as the love interests of known criminals. It would appear that Petty Officer Curtis was looking into one of the deaths as a courtesy to a friend. His friend's sister was one of the victims. We can assume, however, that he got in the way."

Tony jumped in standing on her other side, "It's gotta be Gibbs that goes in with a honey. Can't use any of us, they've seen me and Ziva and McGee. Not that anyone would seriously think that McGeek looks like a criminal….well maybe the weaselly little counterfeiter in the basement, but…Ow!" He flinched as Abby punched him the shoulder.

Abby never held anything back when she let fly. McGee was like a cousin to her now, and only she got to pick on him. "Where is McGee?" Abby asked.

"Probably came to warn you that Tony's cheese finally slipped off his cracker." Gibbs said dryly as he stapled the documents on his desk with more force than necessary before slapping them down on the manila folder in front of him.

Abby stared up at the pictures of the victims as the next slide came up on the screen. She stood in reflective thought for only a minute.

"I'll do it." Abby said resolutely.

"No, Abbs, you won't." Gibbs stood, prepared to set them all straight. This debate was over. He met her eyes reluctantly. He didn't want to hurt her with his refusal. But he expected to see nervous hesitation, and was met only with calm purpose in her green eyes.

"You don't have anyone else."

"You're not a field agent." Gibbs countered.

"So? You'll keep me safe." Abby said with utter confidence. "You can't wait until another woman dies for more clues, Gibbs."

He had no argument for that. It was what they all did – protect and serve. Provide justice to the fallen and give them the voice to name their executioner. He couldn't stomach seeing another young woman laid out on one of Ducky's tables any more than she could.

His gut was unsettled. Could he keep her safe? Was he absolutely certain? It was only reconnaissance. They needed to get a foot in the door of that estate ASAP. Reluctantly, he had to agree that Ziva was right. Any of the female agents other than Ziva might as well carry a badge and harness if they walked in there with him. It was written in their stride and their bearing, they were all solid investigators but not skilled in subterfuge like his team was. Abby at least had a connection with him. Hadn't they managed to fool those idiots at the cotillion – and those were people who actually knew her. How hard could it be to fool strangers?

Tony watched and could see the Boss waver as he held Abby's steady gaze. Abby had that effect on him that nobody else did. Tony marveled to himself, it was only Abby who ever really changed Gibbs' mind about anything. He could see the scales tip as Gibbs cheek muscles tightened and his hands clenched and relaxed. When Gibbs looked away, he knew Abby had won.

"I'll talk to Leon," Gibbs said with a trace of resignation. "Don't plan anything, though, 'cause he is _not_ going to agree." Gibbs looked up to the doors of MTAC and the Director's office and his lips tightened. Vance had better not let him down.

* * *

><p>The Director let him down.<p>

As he had leaned back in his chair and listened to Gibb's half-hearted proposal, Leon Vance chewed on a toothpick. "Ms. Scuito has proven her worth in the field a few times now," he said consideringly. "I don't know that we really have any other options, unless we turn it over to the FBI."

He had seen Gibbs' shoulders tighten reflexively and kept his smile to himself. Leroy Jethro Gibbs might be a pain in his ass, but some days Leon could dish it right back to him. Nothing pissed Gibbs off more than the threat of handing off a navy case, but that was just gravy. The investigation was the bottom line and she really was their best shot at entrance into the complex. He phoned down to Agent McGee to prepare their documentation and to Agent David to prepare Ms. Scuito. Given Gibbs' temper, he felt it was better to leave Special Agent DiNozzo out of the equation.

"I know you're very protective of Ms. Scuito," Leon felt the waters before going on. At Gibbs' speaking look of impatience, he continued. "Nothing should happen to her."

"Should doesn't cut it, Leon!" Gibbs shot back.

"This was your idea, Gibbs." Leon reminded him in his resonant baritone.

"No. It was DiNozzo's stupid idea." Gibbs paced the office rubbing the back of his neck.

"You have a better one?"

"No."

"Then quit complaining, Gibb. Go prepare your team." Leon sat upright and reached across his desk to make a call. The discussion was over and Gibbs was being dismissed. Frankly Leon wasn't sure if Gibbs wouldn't take a swing at him if the discussion continued. Better to end it now.

"And Gibbs…"

"Yeah?"

"Good Luck." Vance nodded at him as Gibbs turned away without acknowledging him and pulled the office door shut behind him just short of a slam.

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><p>"What time is our appointment?" Gibbs asked for confirmation.<p>

"One o'clock boss. I've got your driver's license and credit cards here for your wallet. Your name is Gibson Domenico Capanula. In case Abby slipped and called you Gibbs, we wanted it to seem natural. And we set up a pretty deep criminal history out for you on the web. There's a BOLO out for you in Georgia and Tennessee. We pulled connections that were not close to any of the known parties who use the place now. Figured we'd keep it as clean and uncomplicated as we could. And…" McGee's voice trailed off as he saw Abby step off the elevator with Ziva.

"Yeah, McGee?" Gibbs sounded impatient.

"Yeah, uh, well…I think we've got it covered." McGee swallowed as he looked at Abby. She didn't look like herself, but she did look, well…, hot.

"Ta Da!" Abby announced as she entered their bullpen area. Raising her open palms to acknowledge silent applause, she twirled around for their review.

Gibbs swallowed hard as his eyes traveled up from her narrow black ankle boots to the sleek black catsuit she wore with a thick silver chain threaded around her waist. The top clung to her like second skin accentuating her high, round breasts just below the scoop neck. Her hair was pulled back into a relaxed bun, but loose wisps framed her face making her look available and alluring. Her eyes were smoky and her lips full and crimson. Her cool white hands now rested on her hips with shapely nails that were as red as sudden justice. Like a hot rod, she looked built for sex and speed.

A wolf whistle cut through the silence, and Gibbs snapped "Pick your jaw up off the floor, DiNozzo!" without ever taking his eyes off Abby. She smiled at the silent appreciation in his eyes.

She approached him with a sultry step before running a fingernail down the length of his rust colored leather jacket. She brought her gaze up to his and murmured, "So sugar, when do we go lookin' at some real estate?" Her soft New Orleans drawl came as naturally as café au lait and beignets to a girl brought up in Louisiana.

If any of the Team had wondered if Abby and Gibbs could look like a couple for this assignment, they needn't have. The heat that shot between their eyes left no doubt why this 'couple' wanted private real estate. Hell, the moment looked so intimate that a few of them looked away in embarrassment, though certainly not Tony.

"Yeow! Abby you look hot! Man if I was looking for a place to keep a little nookie on the side I would so do yo…"

"Do what, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snapped, his hand reaching protectively for the small of Abby's back. He glared at the younger agent. Had he been any closer, he would have slapped the back of Tony's head so hard he would have had whiplash.

"Uh, do nothing, Boss…" Tony suddenly became very busy at his desk, but looked up surreptitiously at the unlikely couple.

"Your car and driver are waiting downstairs. Abby, do not forget that you need to…" Ziva was interrupted.

"S'okay, Ziva, I know." Abby replied throatily, but she did not look away from Gibbs.

"You ready?" he asked gently, concern for her evident in his deep blue eyes.

She nodded, and for once she was without words. It was one of his superpowers, she swore it. Abby never knew how he managed to use those eyes for good and evil within one minute or even one sentence. One moment he was shredding Tony's ego to ribbons, the next providing warm refuge when she was frightened.

"Ready as I'll ever be." She tilted her head and smiled gamely. Only Gibbs would know how frightened she truly was.

He placed his hand gently but firmly to the small of her back and guided her to the elevator. "Back to work, people!" He called out over his shoulder. He swore one of these days he was going to buy a bullwhip to get their attention.

As he got on the elevator, though, he forgot the Team and focused on her alone. "We don't have to do this, Abbs," he murmured as the doors shut.

"What? We _totally_ have to do this. We got the ID's, the background check, the driver, the appointment. It would look so hinky if we backed out now." Abby spewed out all her reasons in a rapid fire clip.

Gibbs punched the elevator stop button. "Yeah. But we don't have to do this if _you_ don't want to, Abs. We'll find another way." He was calm itself. There was nothing that he would put before her welfare. If she wasn't ready for this, there was no way he would push her.

Abby blew a sharp breath towards her bangs in frustration. He wasn't making this any easier.

"Kiss me, Gibbs." She demanded.

"What?" he looked stunned.

Well that was a first, anyway. She had actually caught him by surprise. "Seriously, Gibbs. How can I act like I'm your super-hot sex toy when we've never even kissed. I mean, I know we've kissed each other lots of times, like when I do a good job or under mistletoe, or…" Abby paused in her nervous rambling as he turned her towards him, gently holding her by the hips and moving in close.

He looked at her intently, communicating without words as only Gibbs could. It was her move to make.

She laid her arms nervously on his shoulders. It shouldn't feel this awkward, something that she had wanted so much for so long. She breathed in the comforting and appealing scent that was uniquely Gibbs, heady and spicy with a touch of something else. "You smell like sawdust," she laughed quietly taking her time and enjoying the closeness of him. He didn't hurry her and she liked that. She didn't want this over too soon.

"Yeah?" His smile pulled to one side as he gazed down at her intently. He bent and kissed her ear as she shivered. He loved her uncontrolled reaction to him. "You smell like gunpowder, you know."

A sensuous smile spread across her face as her eyes became heavy-lidded. She twined her hands behind his neck, sinking her graceful fingers into his finely cropped silver hair. "You know what they make with sawdust and gunpowder, gunny?" Her eyes shut gently as she closed the distance and whispered across his lips, "Fireworks!"

Amen to that, he thought before all thoughts fled entirely. Oh Yeah…Fireworks!

Finis—

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><p>(Sort of – Story will have a sequel for mature audiences only as <strong>Wake Up and Smell the Coffee <strong> (rated M). First chapter should be up in a few days).

**THANK YOU! **to Superbeau, Miss Madonna24, bbfan, tanya2byour21, mibel, periodically chlorinated, and STLFAN, Ziver69, cheether, CALLEN37, ncislove, punkcatwitissues, timundvin and gosgirl for taking the time to review! Those reviews made me so happy (sometimes made me rethink) and always made me grateful. Reviews are better than gold!


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